


Fall

by KryptoRed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Childhood Friends, Endgame Lukanette, F/M, Fluff, Lukanette, choop choop, happy valentine's day, i think, just pure and utter fluff, lbscexchange2021, lukanette endgame, mwah mwah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryptoRed/pseuds/KryptoRed
Summary: “The first blooms of spring always make my heart sing.”— S. BrownA story told by the seasons.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34
Collections: 2021 Exchange





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BBWoulfC (Raydara12)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raydara12/gifts).



> Hello, hello, hello! This is something I wrote after participating in this year's LBSC Exchange event, and the prompt I used are from BBWoulfC (and you can check them out on both here and Tumblr):
> 
> 1) Childhood Friends - Person 1: "You still have this? After all these years?"  
> Person 2: "Of course. It's one of the few things I could never let go."
> 
> 2) Calm Together - Luka and Marinette in a park together, both sitting side by side as Luka plays his guitar and Marinette sketching.
> 
> Sorry if I'm late, but I hope you all enjoy this!

Organizing his room isn’t something Luka learned from his mother, but it’s what he makes into a habit after living with her his whole life before moving out. His apartment isn’t as messy as _La Liberté_ is after leaving it alone into his mother’s hands, but that doesn’t excuse him from cleaning his own domain every now and then. And so on that’s what he ends up doing on a Monday, free from other obligations that would’ve prevented him from cleaning.

He starts off by clearing out a particular box stained with multi-coloured paint, sitting at the bottom of a shelf in the corner of his bedroom. He wouldn’t have paid too much attention to it on any other day and just made sure to organize the chaotic stacking of whatever’s on top of it, but there’s something about the chaotic joy that emits from the box, calling out to him like a fairy in the forest. And so he sits down, clearing out the surprisingly spacious box filled with so many things. He finds old photos of him and Juleka smiling widely into the camera and showing off their missing teeth, a few forgotten guitar picks obviously painted by himself, some beads of what could only come from his mother’s collection, and an old shirt that he hopes was washed before sleeping in the box for years. But underneath all of those lies an even smaller box painted dark-teal with splatters of pink, rectangular in shape, and with a latch keeping it closed.

The box is small enough that he can hold it with his two hands, but the sound of shuffling tells him that something is hiding inside it. He opens the box carefully, mindful of any stray glitter that he might’ve forgotten about (something he’s learned in the past), only to find something else. He picks up a small notebook that appears to have something stuck in between its many pages, and he realizes they’re pressed flowers – daffodils, rose petals, violets, daisies, and even bluebells. He carefully closes the notebook, making sure that the flowers are left undisturbed, and notices something written on the first page. He recognizes his handwriting and his pathetic attempt at writing his name in cursive, Juleka’s, but there’s a third name that’s written by someone else’s. It looks much neater than his, so it’s easier for him to read it, and his finger gently brushes against the years-old charcoal on paper: _‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’_. 

All of a sudden, the name of a long-lost friend unlocks memories of the past. Memories of children spending most of their days together, running around and splashing each other with water and sharing snacks while sitting under a tree. He sees memories that unlock something that has been planted in his heart a long time ago, spending years in silent hibernation, until now.

He blinks his eyes multiple times, trying to shake away the wistfulness and longing of what he thinks is already gone, and puts the notebook back in its place. As he does so, he notices a necklace chain lying at the corner of the small box and picks it up. Strangely enough, nothing is attached to it. He thinks hard on what could have been there, and whether or not it had been lost during one of his previous cleaning before, during, or after moving out. He’ll have to ask his mother and maybe Juleka about that. For now, he pockets the chain and puts the small box right by his bed as a reminder to put it somewhere else. 

Not wanting to get too distracted, he quickly and carefully puts the rest of the trinkets away and continues with his cleaning. Despite that, though, he spends most of his cleaning time thinking about the past and a girl he once called Marinette.

While he clears out the dust gathering from every corner, he remembers the softness of her hand whenever they held hands.

While he sweeps the floor, he hums the tune of an unnamed song he remembers singing to her after tripping and scraping her hands and knees.

While he washes, dries, and folds his laundry, he smiles when he remembers the sound of her laugh.

While he cooks dinner, he remembers the smell of grass that lingers around them after rolling around it for hours.

It takes him until he’s lying on his bed, eyes wide open, fingers twiddling with the necklace chain that he realizes it’s always been there. The feelings have always been there, but he was too young to know until now. He closes his eyes to sleep, hoping to at least see her again - if not in reality, but perhaps in his dreams.

  


He wakes up in the morning, tears staining the sides of his cheeks, and he realizes he’ll never see her again.

  


A few days after the impromptu visit down memory lane, he walks into an arts and crafts store to buy some special paper to use for his band’s flyers. After asking an employee on which aisle to go to, he hums the same song that reminds him of her, and for now he won’t cry ~~again~~. But as he turns the corner of the aisle, he halts his steps and his face is frozen with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. 

There, standing in the middle of the paper aisle, is who Luka can only assume is Marinette (if he remembers her features correctly). From the looks of the basket she’s carrying filled with paint and paintbrushes, she must’ve been here for a while now. She looks pretty - no, prettier - than how he remembers her, and he wishes he can take a picture of her in case it’s all he has left of her before she disappears again. 

She looks pretty (what was wrong with repeating it?) standing there looking at the shelf of cardstock paper, her hair done up in a bun with a few stray strands brushing against her neck and cheeks. She’s wearing a peach-coloured blouse with a ruffled collar and short butterfly sleeves tucked into light-blue high-waisted jeans, and gold-coloured sandals. 

Luka changes his mind and thinks that she’s not pretty - _she’s absolutely beautiful._

“Marinette?” He calls out to her in a soft voice, unsure if she’ll hear him.  
Luka remains standing still, his breathing even caught in the moment, and that’s how Marinette finds him when she turns around at the call of her name. She puts on a polite smile, unsure how to address the stranger who knows her name, until she realizes it’s not just a stranger.

It takes her a while to recognize Luka, mostly because of the teal-dyed tips of his hair that apparently suits him well. He’s grown up from the lanky boy she used to grab onto whenever she gets scared, judging by how well the all-black raglan t-shirt clings to his arms. She notices how tall he’s gotten, what with how long his legs look wearing those dark skinny jeans and a pair of low cut white and mint green sneakers.

“Luka? Is that you?”

They simultaneously walk closer to each other, but still wary about whether or not they’re mistaking someone else for their childhood friend.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” He asks, and his heart beats a little louder and faster when he hears her laugh, the back of her hand covering her mouth to hide her smile ~~and he so wishes to see it again after all these years~~.

“I guess it has been.”

“So… 15 years, huh?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh, yes!” She laughs again and he loves the sound of it. It sounds even better than he remembers it to be. “I can’t believe it’s been that long already.”

“Yeah, neither can I. So, uh… how have you been? How’re your parents? Do you live around here, too?”

“I’m doing fine and so are my parents. They have a bakery and apartment set up at the 21st arrondissement, so you should come by! They’d love to see you again, you know?” she holds onto one of his arms, and it feels so warm and he doesn’t want her to let go. “What about you? How’re you doing? And Juleka? Your mom?”

“We’re great,” he responds breathily, “I’m glad to see you again, you know? And I’d love to drop by at the bakery. And you said ‘they’ so, does that mean you…?”

“Moved away? Yes, I have.” She lets go, and he feels as if winter has come to hold him instead. “It’s actually not too far from them so, we don’t really miss each other that much.”

They continue with their small reunion, walking around the store while exchanging stories that they missed out on each other. They talk as if 15 years had never separated them at all, until their meeting comes to an end when Marinette sees that time and tells Luka that she has somewhere to be. Sad as it is, he finds comfort when they exchange numbers and have something to hold onto the other - to have something to remind them that they’re not separated anymore. 

He waves her off from the store’s door, and it’s only when the same employee he spoke with earlier asks him if he’s found what he’s looking for that remembers he was there to buy paper. 

Right, of course.

  


They spend the entire night after their reunion talking to each other, and it ends with them agreeing to meet up outside of Shakespeare and Company, a bookstore they’ve both been meaning to visit soon. They agree to meet the day after, and it leaves Luka feeling nervous as he picks out what to wear. After 15 minutes (he made sure to wake up extra early today) were spent looking through his closet, he finally decides on a white graphic shirt slightly tucked into light-grey chino shorts with a brown belt to secure it, and blue and white loafers. He grabs his dark-green crossbody bag, checks that everything he needs is already inside, locks his door, and leaves for the bookstore.

When he arrives at the bookstore, he sees Marinette standing outside looking down at her phone, and he can’t help but admire at how adorable she looks wearing a white oversized shirt with drop shoulder sleeves reaching down to her elbows and tucked into all-black shorts, black high cut boots, and a black bucket hat to cover her head from the bright sun. As he walks closer, he notices that she’s left her hair down this time, and the image reminds him of those times she and Juleka would practice different hairstyles on each other. Her other arm holds onto the strap of her own crossbody bag.

Luka coughs into his hand to catch her attention, to which she responds and he’s happy to see how bright her eyes are when she notices him.

“Luka, hi! You’re here!”

“Hello, Marinette.” He greets her, and the way those words leave him feels all too familiar until now. “You ready to go in?”

“I’m excited, actually. But I think knowing you’re spending the day with me makes it even more exciting.” 

Unsure whether the weather is getting warmer or not, he clears his throat and opens the door for her. “So am I, actually. After you.”

The day goes well - even better than yesterday - and they spend it like good old friends who leave no time for awkwardness. They touch each other by the arm or by the shoulder, something similar to what they used to do, and yet they’re also more than that. Each touch is warmer and lingers longer than the last, and Luka can only hope that Marinette feels it, too. He thinks she does with how she turns around quickly after they brush their fingers against each other while reaching for the same book. His mind is stuck with the image of what he can only assume was a blush on her face, unable to respond to her squeaking out, “I’ll check the next aisle!” 

He only stares at her back, initially scared that she’ll disappear again and never to see him again for 15 more years, but he calms himself and ponders on the tingling that tickles him from inside out. And for the rest of the day, they peek through corners of bookshelves and vacant spaces in-between books, smiling and laughing as they share their finds and decide on what to buy. 

They leave the store to eat lunch at a nearby café, doing some more catching up with each other. They talk and talk and talk the entire day away, going from one place to another without a care in the world besides from knowing that finally, finally they’ve found each other again, and it’s like they don’t want to let go of each other again.

  


The next few days, unfortunately, do not cater to their sudden need for each other’s company, because of their own personal responsibilities. Luka and practicing with his band, writing and composing songs, and visiting his mother and sister while letting them know that he’s seen Marinette again. Marinette, on the other hand, finds herself busy with multiple card orders from her clients, helping out at her parents’ bakery, and definitely letting them know that she’s seen Luka again.

It’s not until a week and a half later that they get to see each other again in person for a picnic. Although they spend the previous nights texting and calling each other, there’s just something about seeing someone special to you without the physical limitations from their phones. Even when it’s summer, the days and nights they spent apart after reuniting could only make them feel like it’s winter.

The picnic was to take place on a field outside of the city, a place recommended to him by one of his bandmates (after some well-deserved teasing when they found out the reason for his asking). Because it was a bit far, Luka volunteered to drive them both there with his car. The lack of the typical urban noises they’ve grown accustomed to only serves as a plus, considering they were both the type to prefer a calm ambience.

Marinette had brought some home-made pastries for them to eat, as well as some water and juice to drink. She also brought with her a sketchbook and some pencils in case inspiration were to strike her and use it for any future cards to make. Asides from those, she also made sure to bring two small bed tray tables for them to place some of the food on. She also decided to wear a light blue V-neck dress just brushing against the top of her knees with circular cap sleeves extending down just before her elbows, and white sandals. Once again, her hair is left down to spread across her back.

Luka, on the other hand, was quite adamant to take responsibility for bringing the picnic blankets that could fit an entire class and more when they first planned the outing. Asides from those, he also brought some foldable chairs for them to sit on if the ground started feeling too stiff for their bottoms, and his guitar to pass the idle time by playing some music for both of them. As for his clothes, this time he went with a light blue button-up shirt with the first two buttons left open, paired with black shorts, and sand-yellow loafers.

After arriving at the field for their picnic, they choose to sit close to a small cluster of trees that would give them more than enough shade to protect them from the sun. They were taking out all of their picnic essentials from Luka’s car while also admiring the scenery in front of them, when Marinette said something.

“This is wonderful, Luka. Please thank your friend for recommending this place, and I really think we should start doing this more.”

“For sure, Marinette. And not that I don’t like it, but aren’t you a bit too early to say that?” He turns around from where he’s busy placing their food basket down, “What if you ended up hating the picnic?”

“Wha - no! As if!” Marinette looks over her shoulder quickly and he sees her eyes going wide, her hands clenching onto the blanket she was supposedly fixing, “Why would I even think that? Why would _you_ think that? This place is perfect, the weather is perfect, the food is perfect, and - ”

“And the company is perfect?” Luka’s question was a gamble on his part, and he hopes that Marinette doesn’t notice the trembling of his voice.

“Yes!”

He also wasn’t sure that she’d even say something back, but he watches as her eyes slowly widen even more, the flush in her cheeks rapidly gaining territory of her entire face, and her mouth shaping into a large ‘O’ until - 

_‘Yup, there it is.’_ He thinks to himself, unsure whether he’s referring to the lovely shade of red on her face or the fact that his childhood friend finally realizes what she’s said.

“I-I mean – it’s because – I wasn’t thinking properly when you – but that doesn’t mean that I think you’re – but you know what I – ” Marinette quickly turns her back on him, her shoulders tense and hunching, and just as Luka’s about to reach out and touch her shoulder for comfort, he’s startled when he hears her muffled scream.

“H-hey…Marinette, come on. It’s okay.” His hand finally makes contact with her shoulder and pats it gently. “I understand, so don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” 

He sits closer to her and gives her a side hug, rubbing her arm to try and console his easily flustered friend. It seems to work when her face finally surfaces from the safety of her hands, face still a little red, her brows scrunched up in worry and her eyes glossy from unshed tears. 

“Hey, hey…” he coos at her, leaning even closer to her to the point that their shoulders are practically touching, “It’s alright. I get it. You know you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me. And besides, I am the perfect company after all.”

“Lukaaaaaaa!” she whines and hits him not too hard on the chest, inducing a hearty laugh from him.

“Alright, alright! Easy there, Marinette. How about we forget about this and go right ahead with eating. Sounds good?” 

“Mhm.”

“Good. Why don’t you get some of your stuff that’s still in the car, and I’ll set the food?” He gives her the car keys, implying that she can lock the car afterwards. Just as Marinette takes the keys, turns around, and walks away, Luka quickly turns his back towards her to hide his face that’s now rapidly gaining a new shade of red.

 _‘Magnolia and cherry blossom;’_ he thinks to himself, referring to the smell from his friend, _‘like a walk at Champ de Mars.’_

Before getting caught, he goes right back to taking the food out from the basket and sets everything down onto the blanket with shaky hands.

  


After eating and admiring the view, they eventually find themselves leaning onto each other’s back. They make no other noise asides from Luka strumming his guitar and the occasional scratch of charcoal against paper on Marinette’s end. After the slightly awkward chattering from earlier, it worries Luka that there had been little talk between them since then. And even when Marinette would keep on assuring him that everything’s alright, it worries him that perhaps after being separated for 15 long years, not everything goes back to the way it used to be.

Perhaps he is expecting too much, thinking of what ifs and could have beens, and he’s left clueless on how to keep their strange relationship afloat if the day ends on a sour note. Perhaps he should’ve kept his mouth shut, and maybe Marinette wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable anymore and - 

A muffled thud rouses him from his deep thoughts, curious to know what could’ve dropped onto the blanket. Just as he turns back to ask Marinette what it was (if she would even answer him at all), he sees something flash from her small and soft hands.

There, sitting perfectly from Marinette’s hand, is what looks like an open pocket watch with its outside the colour of champagne. But as he looks closer, he realizes it’s actually a compass with a sundial instead of a watch with gold-coloured rims. Marinette notices him looking at what she’s holding, and before she can say a word, he beats her to it by asking,

“You still have that? After all these years?”

“Of course. It’s one of the few things I can never let go.”

Instead of saying something back, Luka immediately starts patting his shirt and shorts, before finally putting his hand in one of his pockets to grab something and pull out the same necklace chain he had found in the small box hiding in his room, and holds it out to her.

“This is its chain for it, right? The compass, I mean.”

“Y-yeah. You told me I could have the compass while you keep the chain, so we’d know there’s always a chance for us to see each other again.”

The words _‘and we did’_ are left unsaid, but they still knew what it meant for them. What it means for them. No longer able to stop himself, he cups both her cheeks and leans his forehead against hers, close enough to smell the flowers on her again. Close enough to brush his nose against hers. Close enough to just kiss her.

But he doesn’t and she doesn’t. And frankly, they’re alright with what they have right now.

  


They end their picnic in the late afternoon, with the sun still up and hinting a shade of orange in its yellows. They pack everything back inside Luka’s car in silence, but the kind where they are comfortable and content without the words. They spend the rest of the drive back to the city basking in a new kind of understanding, one that they’ve chosen to keep among themselves, hands bashfully brushing against each other every now and then, and eyes sneaking glances at one another.

They don’t talk again until Luka drops Marinette off, helps her put all her stuff back in her apartment, and stands outside of her door.

“Thank you again for the picnic, Luka.”

“And thank _you_ for the company, Marinette.” Instead of getting flustered at the reminder of what happened earlier, she only offers him a small smile.

“You know you can stay a little longer if you want,” she offers, “surely you must be tired from driving.” 

She wraps her hands across herself, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. Her hair is now tied into a loose side ponytail, her sandals replaced with soft home slippers in light pink. 

Luka scratches his right cheek with a finger, his eyes telling her without words that he is more than ready to accept her invitation. His left hand is hiding within the confines of his pocket, fidgeting as much as possible with his phone.

But just as Luka opens his mouth to verbally accept her offer, they hear something buzz. Luka immediately takes his phone out, sees his mother’s name and excuses himself, walking a few steps away from Marinette. He notices her glancing away, giving him some privacy. 

His head is filled with today’s events, even as he listens to his mother’s words through the phone. He can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they’re not just childhood friends anymore. That maybe, just maybe, these feelings between them can grow just as they have. But as soon as he comes to that conclusion, his heart drops at what his mother tells him.

He hangs up after bidding her goodbye, puts his phone back in his pocket, and walks back to Marinette. For every step he takes, he dreads of the disappointment he’ll see on her face as soon as he tells her,

“Sorry, but I can’t stay.”

The guilt eats at him as he watches her smile drop, her bright blue eyes looking from up at him to down at her shoes, her brows a little furrowed from -

 _‘Disappointment. She’s disappointed I can’t stay.’_

“So, uh…” he clears his throat, “I really want to stay, but Ma called me to – ”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Marinette finally looks up, and Luka’s glad that there aren’t any tears. “Just tell her and Juleka I said hi.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

He remains standing in front of her, still not ready to leave her ~~in fear that it’ll be the last he sees of her~~. They remain standing in front of each other in silence, the gaiety from today slowly slipping away until it leaves them with a cold hug. All of a sudden, it feels like winter during a summer night. It doesn’t make sense; not in the slightest, and Luka hates it.

“I guess I’ll just call you when I get home?” He asks her, his arms opening up to invite her for a hug.

“Yeah, of course.” She walks into his embrace, and he’s not even ashamed of letting out a sigh of relief when he feels her hands wrap around him. “Let me know when you’re back home.”

He hums in agreement, even when bites his tongue to not say _‘I am home. With you.’_

They separate after a few more seconds, but only enough that they’re still wrapped around each other, Luka looking down at Marinette’s face. He looks into her eyes, and he sees the same blue sky that often smiled upon them when they used to be children, and he wishes to see the same sky now that they’re no longer that young. He looks at the small blush that finds itself spreading onto her cheeks like the picnic blankets they used, and he sees the sunset that used to smile down on them whenever they bid farewell and went back home; before the last goodbye turned into years instead of a night and day. 

And suddenly, he has an idea.

He has an idea, and it’s a very bold one. He has an idea that has been whispering suggestively at him from the very corner of his mind, persisting to catch his attention and never going away. He has an idea that persists on calling out to him, screaming at him, telling him to just – 

He leans down slowly, his eyes looking into hers before falling down onto her lips. He looks into those lips that he keeps thinking whether they taste just as sweet as the pastries she bakes. 

Instead, he gently presses his own lips onto hers, and all he tastes are blueberries and lemon. He thinks he’s kissing pure bliss, but perhaps it’s happiness. 

He feels her hand cup his cheek, slightly putting pressure onto the skin and pushing him closer to her, and suddenly happiness turns into elation. Marinette is responding and it’s utterly delightful. Luka doesn’t want to let her go anymore – because he’s finally telling her what’s been gnawing at him – but he pulls away, nonetheless.

He hears her whine in disappointment, and he mentally berates himself for making the habit of disappointing her.

“I have to go now.” He whispers to her, but with where he’s looking, neither knows if he’s telling Marinette, herself, or her pair of lips.

After gaining the confidence to look into her eyes again, Luka believes his knees are going weak.

“I really have to go now.” He tells her, and he leans onto her hand when her fingers start caressing his cheek. 

“I know.”

He finally lets her go and steps away, unwilling to turn his back around; afraid that he’ll lose sight of her and never see her again for years. Or ever at all.

“I’ll call you later?”

Marinette can only smile at the boy she once knew 15 years ago, tucking stray hands of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He smiles back at her before walking away,

  


only to quickly turn back around to kiss her like sunlight with the flowers on fresh, spring morning.


End file.
